The Loner
by HomeschoolGirl
Summary: A story exploring the complexities, ups and downs of the relationships Jerome has at Anubis House. What's his life like at home? What does he really think of everyone? My take on everything.
1. Girls and their Puzzling Minds

Here's another Anubis fanfic! :)

Let me know what you think if you have the time. Reviews are my biggest motivator.

Thank you for reading!

-Homey

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _House of Anubis. _Whoo!

©HomeschoolGirl 2013, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

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Chapter One: Girls and their Puzzling Minds 

There had always been girls in Jerome Clarke's life. Lots and lots of them. He'd been in boarding school for most of his years-and that meant he'd seen, heard, and experienced his fair share of the female race. But nothing compared to the exposure he garnered daily at Anubis House.

There was a time, he was certain, when girls would make sense to him. He would wake up one morning and just know what they were. He would know what went on in their prissy little minds, what pleased and bothered them; and that, he couldn't wait for. More knowledge of somebody gave you a higher success rate for pranking.

He was confident upon arriving at Anubis on a Tuesday-fifteen, cocky, slightly awkward in his five-eleven, long-limbed body, but self-assured nonetheless. He unpacked his suitcase and bid a polite hello to his roommate, a dorky boy with ears too large for his head. (That had been Alfie, back in the day, believe it or not). Then he'd swept downstairs for dinner with his usual stealth.

Jerome Clarke was an observer. He noticed things nobody else did; stored them in the depths of his quick-witted mind and never forgot them. And he would never, ever forget the first thing he heard Amber Millington say.

Her voice carried over to him, where he lurked in the hallway. It was an especially girly one, with a whine at that. He wrinkled his nose.

"...but Daddy didn't get me the shoes I wanted, Mommy! I mean, he did, but he got them in the wrong _color_, can you imagine? And when I asked him to take them back, he said he didn't have the time. But I cannot possibly wear them-they don't go with even one of my outfits, and hot pink is so last season."

Jerome was truly disgusted. He couldn't take it anymore. Into the living room he went, toward the source of the voice. And then he stopped dead in his tracks.

Because, wow, was she beautiful.

Her hair was long and blonde, creeping past her shoulders, to her ribcage. She was dressed in a tank top of some sort, exposing pale, unused arms that lacked any muscle. For a moment he just stared, until she turned and caught sight of him.

"Mommy? I have to go. Someone is looking at me. No, no-not a man. Some boy my age." He supposed that her words were meant to be quiet, but she just wasn't the kind who had a talent for whispering. They carried to his ears, and he flinched.

She snapped her glittery blue cell phone shut and blinked at him.

He blinked back.

For a moment, all was quiet.

"Hello," She said at last. Her words had taken on a slow, sort of drowsy lilt. "Do. You. Speak. English?"

He stuttered a non-definitive yes. She shook her head.

"Yes means no, you mean. Right?"

He found his voice. "No. I meant yes. Of course I speak English."

"Then why weren't you?"

"Because I didn't feel like it."

"Ugh," She scoffed. "Boys."

Okay, then, he thought. She might have been pretty, and cute, and a good first-girlfriend candidate that that he could brag about to his mates at home (not that he had any), but she was a spoiled brat.

And all brats deserved to be pranked to the fullest extend of the Jerome Clarke law.

He smirked back at her. She frowned, surprised. Or maybe stupefied. He had a habit of interchanging those words.

"I'm sorry for being so horribly rude," He purred, leaning forward, arms behind his back. "I'm just a little jet-lagged. You know, the plane over here and all."

Her eyes lit up. "You took a plane?"

Yes. The bait had been taken. "Didn't you?"

"Ugh. No. Daddy made me take a car, can you believe that?"

He leaned away and ambled forward a few lazy steps, hands deep in the pockets of his trousers. "I can't. That's just complete nonsense."

She didn't seem to notice the fact that he was coming closer. "I know! That's what I told him. But he didn't listen. I told him that cars are extremely germy and drivers cannot be trusted, but he said our driver could be trusted just because he's been in the family for fifteen years. Well, I think find that to be complete and utter bull, if you'll excuse me for saying so." She finally took notice of him, now standing only a few feet away. It took him a moment to realize she wanted an answer.

"Oh, that's fine. Go on."

She was speaking before he'd even finished. Between elongated sentences detailing how utterly unfair her life was she took huge gulps of air, filling her lungs. He would have been bored under normal circumstances, but he was on the hunt.

It was time to reel her in.

"Maybe you'd like to sit by me at dinner tonight?" He asked, sickly sweet.

She wrinkled her nose in a cute way. "Maybe. If I don't find anyone better."

Ouch. Strangely enough, there didn't seem to be any ill-intent to her words.

_She's probably just socially retarded_, Jerome thought dryly. Her type usually is. _Oh well. I can always help with that._

"You won't find anyone better," He assured her.

She smiled back, the first genuine grin he'd seen from his thus far. "Okay. Maybe I will."

For a moment, he felt just a little bad about the plan forming in his mind. But then she gathered up her cell phone, and her jacket, and made for the stairs, saying she'd just have to put her things away real quick then she'd be back, and he didn't feel as bad.

Jerome Clarke could have been called a bully, but he was far from it. Anyone who doesn't have a family is bound to take it out on other people. So that's what he did. It made him feel good about himself, if only for a short while.

"Good day, Trudy," Jerome said as he entered the dining room, an elaborate area set up with a long table and lots of breakable crystal. The Indian woman who served as their house mom had introduced herself when he arrived, and he'd taken care to remember her name.

"Hi, sweetie" She replied, smiling at him with a mouthful of white, slightly crooked teeth. She brushed her black hair behind her ears. "If you'll take a seat, I'll have dinner ready in just a moment."

He did as he was told, selecting a place at the far end of the table that would become his for the next four years. Before long, another person came strutting in-this one a loudmouth girl who had dyed her hair a burgundy color. She paused and stared at him, then frowned.

"I'm sorry, but you took my seat."

Jerome laughed. "Does it have your name on it?" He pretended to check. "Hm, let's have a look, shall we? I don't see it anywhere-but then again, I don't know your name, so I can't be sure."

"Patricia," She supplied icily, taking a seat as far from his as possible.

"Ah, lovely name indeed. I'm Jerome Clarke." He stuck his hand out towards her, grinning with a teasing glint in his eyes. "Pleased to meet you."

She ignored him and folded her arms across her chest.

Jerome heard the loud mumble of incredibly boyish voices in the hall and craned his neck to see who'd be next. Patricia sat up a bit straighter as Alfie walked in, along with a black-haired boy who wore a pair of purposefully oversized glasses on his nose. At least, Jerome hoped they were intentional-otherwise the boy was a total doof, and he couldn't take any more of those.

"Guys, this is Fabian," Alfie announced. "Fabian, this is Patricia, and-Jerome, was it?"

He confirmed this and gave Fabian a cordial nod.

Fabian nodded back and pushed his glasses up his nose. He followed Alfie down to the center of the table, where they both took their seats. Perfect. That left an empty one right next to Jerome-a perfect place for the unsuspecting blonde girl.

"It's uh-nice to meet you," Fabian murmured under his breath.

Patricia smiled at him. "I know you through Joy, you know. She said you two went to school together. Is that true?"

He looked up, a little hopefully. "Joy talked about me?"

"Sure. She told me all about you."

"That's cool. How do you know her?"

"Through a friend of my mum's. Something of the sort."

That's when Jerome lost interest, and went back to picking at his place setting. He made the fork walk across the plate (a rocky terrain it was!) to get to the spoon in time to proclaim his dying love for her before she married the knife. But, in a surprise twist, the knife announced his intense, burning passion for the fork and the two were wed, leaving spoon sad and loveless.

Now, which one was he?

More feet shuffling, more greeting. Jerome glanced up. The girl from earlier flounced in, alongside another blonde Jerome hadn't seen before. Something twisted deep in his stomach. He watched with slight interest as the burly boy sat down, patting the place next to him for her. She paid Jerome no mind, but sat next to the other guy. So. That was great.

He cleared his throat. She looked up. They'd ended up right across from one another.

"Pardon me, but weren't you planning on sitting next to me?"

She frowned. "Sorry. But I don't think I said anything about that."

The boy nudged her, and she turned back to him. His voice was low, playful.

"What did you say your name was?"

"Amber Millington. And you're Mick?"

"Campbell, yea."

They shared a smile. Jerome frowned and stared at the tablecloth.

That's when the last girl came in, Joy presumably, and of course she took the spot next to Patricia, across from Fabian. That left Jerome with Alfie on one side, an empty space on the other. He swallowed back the lump that had risen in his throat. Was he really so unlikable? Why was everyone else chatting while he sat there, mute and uninteresting?

"Oh, good," Trudy said, coming back into the room. She had a huge platter of spaghetti in her hand, loaded down with some sort of thick red sauce. She placed in in the center of the table, disappearing back into the kitchen for two full baskets of garlic bread.

"I'll let you have at it, then," She said, setting them down on either end of the table. "Victor, he's the head here, told me to tell you if you all behave and eat with manners, then you may carry on eating amongst yourselves. But-" And she paused here, for dramatic effect or to stifle a chuckle, Jerome wasn't sure, "-if you make a mess or get too loud, I'll just have to eat with you. And believe me, sweeties, you probably don't want that."

Joy smiled up at Trudy. "Thank you."

"Yeah, thanks," Amber said in a dismissive tone. Trudy gave them all one last, kind smile before sweeping out of the room, out into the hall. For a moment, everyone was quiet as they dished food onto their plates. When it was his turn, Jerome only took a small portion. He didn't feel very well.

"So...Joy," Fabian said after a lengthy pause. That seemed to break the ice well enough, and soon everyone was conversing. Mick and Amber amongst themselves, the rest a bit more freely. All except for Jerome, who picked at his food.

There was the ring of a doorbell, and he looked up. Everyone grew quiet enough to listen as Trudy went tapping down the stairs and opened the door, bidding whoever it was a cheerful hello. A small, timid voice responded to Trudy's inquiries, and then she was there, in the doorway, hand attached to a small girl with dark hair and eyes, which she kept trained to the floor.

"Everyone," Trudy announced. "This is Mara. Mara, go and take a seat by Jerome there." Trudy pointed the way, and Mara complied. Jerome watched with interest as she scooted the chair back, then sank in. He couldn't tell if she was cute or not.

"I'll just have the driver assist me with your bags," Trudy continued.

Mara looked up, a new worry in her eyes. "Oh-you don't need-"

Trudy waved her away. "Don't worry yourself, dear. Just get something to eat. You must be starving, what with the traffic delay and all."

Mara looked down. "A bit," She said quietly.

Trudy was gone, then, and Joy was making conversation with the girl. Amber gave her a kind smile and passed the bread. Mara took a piece and nibbled on the edge of it.

"Hello," Jerome said under his breath. "You're new."

She looked up at him. Funny thing about her, he noticed, was that she only moved her eyes-not her head. They were large, and brown, and warm.

"Just as new as the rest of you," She replied crisply.

He took the spaghetti (passed to him by Alfie) and held it out to her. "Here."

She forked up a hearty serving, and thanked him with a forced smile. "Thanks."

"You're a bit late, Mara," Joy called from down the table. "What happened?"

Mara swallowed quickly and wiped her face with a cloth napkin. "Traffic. It was mad."

Jerome studied her intent, unabashedly. She was, he decided at last, pretty. In a reserved sort of way. Her eyelashes were long, and her lips were full.

And she was shy. The perfect specimen to mess with.

He leaned down so his lips were close to her ear. "I'm in my second year here, you know."

She coughed. Once, twice. Then looked up at him with red cheeks. "Really."

He leaned back in his seat. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Not really," She said.

He couldn't decide whether to take that as in insult or not. "Hm."

"Then you're a sophomore?" She said after a moment.

He sighed, as if weighed down by some horrible curse. "Freshman, still."

"Then you got held back."

"Looks like it."

"Were you in Anubis before?"

The others had begun to pay attention, but Jerome ignored them. He lowered his voice even further, so only Mara would be sure to hear.

"Yeah. And I know all the secrets. Like Trudy makes the sauce with tofu."

"This sauce?" Wow, was she naive. Jerome nodded somberly.

"This sauce. If you look really closely you can see white flecks."

Mara smiled, dubious. But she leaned in, just as Jerome had hoped she would.

"You have to get really close," He murmured. She leaned in further still. Amber looked at her in disgust, then whispered something to Mick.

"Closer than that," Jerome said, when her nose was hovering less than an inch away from her plate. She complied, searching.

Someone snickered. Mara looked up.

Only then did she seem to realize that she was peering into a plate of spaghetti in search of tofu, which it obviously didn't have. And only then did she realize she'd been made a fool of.

"Right," She said, sitting back up, smoothing her hair. She blinked rapidly. It took Jerome a moment to notice that her eyes were filling with tears.

"You okay, Mara?" Patricia asked, not unkindly.

The small girl smiled. The corners of her mouth trembled. "F-fine." The words came out in sort of a gasp, then she was up, speed-walking out of the room. Jerome watched her go with a slight feeling of regret.

"What did you say to her?" Amber demanded after a while.

"Nothing!" Jerome exclaimed. "She's just an odd one, that's all."

"Well I don't believe you," Amber chirped. She stood and walked from the room, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Mick glanced at Jerome with narrowed eyes and then dashed off after his newest toy. The rest of them continued to eat, occasionally shooting him disgust-filled glances.

"Sorry mate," Alfie whispered when the table had begun being cleared. "I think what you did was brill, really. But it was a bit harsh."

"Maybe," Jerome allowed. "But it was partially her fault for believing me."

"Right on!" Alfie held out his hand for a fist bump, and Jerome complied.

"Oh, dude?" He asked after a moment of chewing.

"What?" Jerome looked at him.

"Is this really your second year here?"

"Of course not. I lied."

Alfie laughed. "I think we're going to get on well."

Thus began the friendship of Lewis and Clarke.


	2. Confusion At Its Best

Reviews! Love them! Thank you!

My fear is that everyone is way OOC in this chapter. :P If they are, pleeeease do not hesitate to tell me so. I might just delete this and rewrite completely. I'd love your feedback! Thanks!

-HomeschoolGirl

**Disclaimer: **Guess what? I don't own HOA. Sadly.

©HomeschoolGirl 2013, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

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Chapter Two: Confusion At Its Best

Amber. Amber was the first one Jerome really saw, and he stuck with her throughout the next several years. As he watched her relationship with Mick blossom-and then come to an abrupt end-he felt pangs. They might have been longing, or regret. Or maybe he was just itching to kiss her, to finally do it and know. But he never did.

He woke up one dreary Sunday morning to find that Alfie was already gone for the day, off to run an errand with Patricia. He'd never told Jerome anything about it, which bothered him. He and Alfie usually didn't keep anything from one another.

Okay, scratch that. He kept most everything from Alfie, and Alfie nothing from him. But still.

"You okay?" Amber asked, waltzing into the living room later that day. Jerome lay on the couch, slowly sipping at a glass of orange juice. He didn't have the appetite for anything else.

He exhaled. "Yeah. Fine. Why?"

"You look a bit pale, is all."

"Well, I'm fine."

"Good." Amber stood at the end of the couch expectantly, staring at him.

"Oh. Right." He started to sit up.

"No, no," Amber chided. She bent over and lifted his ankles. "You stay down." She sunk into the couch and dropped his legs. Plop, went his feet, right onto her lap. She squirmed for a bit, trying to get comfortable, while he stared at her, aghast.

"There!" She chirped, when she was satisfied. "I just had to get out of my room. Mara's all going on about Mick this and Mick that-I've never been so insulted. Is she completely blind? He was my boyfriend for almost two years. That's not even funny-"

She babbled on, seemingly unaware as to the fact that he was still gaping at her in shock. Because Amber Millington never went anywhere near him, much less his feet, yet there they were, touching her.

"Are you quite all right, Amber?" He asked at last.

She looked at him, then opened her mouth, but paused, looked some more. "Fine."

"Sure? 'Cause you've never touched me once before in your life but now-"

She leaned in, placing her hand on his chest. Jerome grew silent. Her eyes probed into his icy blue ones, searching. She smiled to herself and shook her head.

"You've got a scar," She said, staying where she was.

"I-I do?" He stuttered. Jerome Clarke never stuttered.

"Right there. Underneath your eye."

"Oh. That."

"What happened?"

His Dad had given more or less given him that, some many years ago, by accident. But still, if he hadn't been so intent on playing rough with Jerome-if he'd listened when his son said he was tired, he didn't want to play football anymore-then maybe it wouldn't have happened.

"I'm waiting," Amber pressed after a moment.

Jerome cleared his throat. "Football accident."

"You slip?"

"Something like that."

_Jerome, why don't you get it? Are you stupid? You're supposed to run with the ball, not against it. And don't just stare at your feet, look around you. No! No! Come here. Like this. Hell, boy, you're never going to get it, are you? Do like I do. Yes! Yes that's right. That's-Jerome? You okay? How did that happen? I've never seen anything like it! Like you, you blathering imbecile! Go cry to your mum. She loves that._

"It must have hurt."

It had. He'd fallen and hit one of the wooden posts that lined the field, sharp with splinters. The cut had probably needed stitches, for certain, but they didn't have insurance and his father told him to walk it off.

"Not really," Jerome lied.

Amber kissed him.

There was a split second before she did it, when her eyes flashed to his lips and then back up, and he should have known, but it still caught him off guard.

Her lips. Not like he imagined them at all. Cold. Unfeeling.

She didn't know. She didn't know about him and she didn't care.

He pulled away. He didn't kiss her back.

"Amber-"

She sat up and wiped the back of her hand along her mouth. "Oops. I've got to go. I think I hear Mara calling!" She pushed his feet off her lap and went running for the stairs. "Coming, Mara!"

Jerome's heart was racing. He sat up, clutching his orange juice in his hand. A bit of it had spilled on the carpet he-didn't-know-when. He bent over and rubbed it in with his thumb, should Victor make an appearance.

Amber Millington had touched him. And kissed him. And asked about him.

Was the apocalypse coming? Was the world about to end?

Maybe she was off her medication. Or on medication. Either one would suffice.

Alfie suddenly materialized out of thin air, charging toward Jerome.

"Happy Birthday, mate!" He cried, embracing him. "I went upstairs to wake you but Ambs told me you were down here."

Oh, right. It was his birthday. He'd completely forgotten, what with his best friend MIA and kissing and reminiscing and all of that.

"Where were you?" Jerome asked, standing. He pulled down his cotton t-shirt, which had ridden up. Then he saw it-there, right on the collar, the slightest touch of pink lipstick.

Alfie followed his stunned line of sight to the mark and frowned. "Dude?"

"What?"

"Is that lipstick?"

"No. I don't know what it is."

"Oh. Okay." Alfie looked back up at him. "So guess where I was? Out running errands with Patricia, who has a metro card and I don't, so I had to tag along."

"For what reason?" Jerome asked, still tremendously relieved that Alfie hadn't sniffed out his lie.  
His friend held up a sloppily wrapped object. "For this."

Jerome accepted it hesitantly. He tore it open and studied the book in his hands. It was a prank book, claiming to contain the secrets to the top 200 best practical jokes in the world along with testimonials from top-of-the-line prankers.

"Gee, thanks," Jerome said, flipping it open.

Alfie's smile fell. "You don't like it?"

"Love it, of course. I just find it odd that I'm not here amongst the list of the best prankers."

"You'll be in the second edition, obviously."

Jerome smiled softly. Alfie was a good friend. "Hey, thanks, mate."

"Sure." Alfie backed up. "I gotta go get Fabes and ask him about Monday's assignment. I think he's with Nina somewhere, isn't he?"

"Probably in his room, reciting mind-numbingly horrid love poems to her."

Alfie snickered. "Wouldn't I love to catch him at it! See you in a bit."

Jerome tipped his head forward. Alfie took that as his cue to leave. Halfway up the stairs, Jerome heard him trip, spitting out a slew of cuss words. Jerome crept to the entrance into the hallway to have a look.

"What was that?" Victor exploded, coming out of his office.

"N-nothing!" Alfie stuttered, then spurted out another curse. He clutched at his knee, hunched over the steps.

"Did your mother tell you it was okay to speak like that, boy?"

"I don't know. You tell me, mum."

"MY OFFICE. RIGHT NOW."

Jerome waited until they were gone to have himself a good laugh.

* * *

He was asleep. Or at least, he had been, until something woke him.

He saw the lone figure creeping across the room, a dark figure shadowed by the moon. It only took him a moment to realize who it was.

"Amber?" He hissed.

"Shh! Fabes and Nina are having some sort of meeting, and they told me I couldn't come." She sniffed. Was it him, or was she crying?

"Are you crying?"

"No!" Sniff. She so obviously was. "Can I-"

He blinked in confusion. "Can you what?"

Without asking, she sat on the edge of his bed. Jerome was forced to scoot over enough to make room for her. She tucked her knees under her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs. Jerome stayed where he was, on his back, staring at the ceiling. Unable to move, or talk, or breathe.

"You want to know something?" She asked.

He didn't reply.

"I'm not a feelingless, blonde bimbo. I have emotions. I might be conceited, but I only am because I'm so pretty."

Jerome almost laughed.

"How come you didn't kiss me back, Jerome?" She demanded.

"Is that what this is about?" He said. "Because I didn't kiss you? Get over yourself, Amber."

He hadn't meant to sound so mean, but he had.

"You're cruel, Jerome. And heartless." She turned to face him. "Why?"

He instantly felt bad.

"Why are you suddenly obsessed with me?"

"I'm not obsessed! I just-I just want to know who you are."

"You never have before."

"But today was different. I saw you, and you looked sad. Alfie told me it was your birthday, you know. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because it's not a big deal. I'm just seventeen."

"Birthdays are a huge deal, Jerome. And seventeen's an important number. Whether you want it to be, or not."

"My birthday's never been important. I didn't see a reason to start making a big deal now."

She sighed airily. "Jerome, I might as well tell you this now-we're never going to be together. You're just too weird, and I'm just too...me."

"O...kay?"

"I just had to come and tell you that. I mean, c'mon-any guy would kill for the chance to kiss me. But you didn't. So." She paused. "Thanks for the chat. I better go."

"Amber, are you bipolar, by chance? Do you have alternate personalities?"

"Ha, Jerome. So funny." She scooted off the end of the bed and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "If you ever speak of this to anyone, I'll be forced to ruin you."

"_You_ ruin _me_? _That's_ an idea."

"I'm serious." She swallowed. "God, I miss Mick. I think that's why I've been so weird."

Jerome rolled his eyes. "Goodbye, Amber."

"Goodnight, Jerome."

She tiptoed her way back out of the room, closing the door with a soft click behind her. For a moment, all was dead silent.

"Dude," Alfie said from across the room. Jerome jumped.

"Was it me, or did Amber Millington just come into our room, sit on your bed, talk about _kissing_ you, threaten you, then say she missed Campbell?"

Jerome swallowed. "You're dreaming, Alfie."

"That's what I thought."

A second later, he heard him snoring. Jerome exhaled with relief.

His mind was officially twisted.

* * *

The next morning, at breakfast-in a surprising turn of events-Amber and Mick were back together. He pulled her onto his lap at breakfast, and she leaned in close to him, giggling about something. Jerome swallowed back the bile that had risen in his throat.

Mara came to breakfast a bit late, keeping her head down. She slid into her spot next to Jerome and asked under her breath for him to pass the toast.

"Disgusting, aren't they?" He asked, leaning in.

Mara didn't reply.

He prodded her with his finger. "Come now, Mara. We're friends. Talk to me."

"I thought...Mick liked me. Things we're going really well, and he'd broken up with Amber. But this morning when I stopped by his room to talk about training he said we couldn't do it anymore, and that it upset Amber." Finally, she looked up at him. "What did I do, Jerome? I thought he liked me."

"Anyone with class would like you, Mara," He found himself saying. "It's just going to take someone really special to appreciate you like they should."

She smiled. "What are you saying?"

He put his arm across the back of her chair. "I like you all right. Fabian does. Alfie does...in his own way. Ignore stupid Mick, and feel good about yourself. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks."

"Sure." He extracted his arm, leaning in close. "And by the way, I feel it's my duty to apologize for the pasta incident."

"What...?" For a moment, she was genuinely confused. Then understanding dawned in her eyes, and she smiled. "Jerome, that was almost two years ago. I'm over it by now."

"Well, I'm not. It's stayed with me every day. Every hour."

She laughed, like he'd hoped. "Right. I'm sure you feel horrible."

"I do! Don't downplay my emotions."

She nodded, still smiling. "Okay. Apology accepted."

He pumped his fist into the air. "Yes! Victory."

Mara shoved the rest of the toast into her mouth and stood. "Indeed. I've got to run. We're putting the paper out today. Thanks again, Jerome."

"Sure thing, Mara."

He watched her go with a smile. Alfie poked him.

"Dude. You're staring. At Mara."

The smile dropped. "No I'm not."

"Yes you were." Alfie smirked.

Jerome turned back to his food. "Shut up, Alfie. Don't be creepy."

"I wasn't! It was the truth."

"Then you're stupid." He shoved a grape into his mouth irritably.

Alfie sighed.


End file.
